Althea: A Story of Love

by Philip Rastocny

  “Look! There’s a waterfall!” she exclaimed. “Let’s go over there.”

  “This is the surprise,” I responded. I wheeled her to a focal point below a pergola draped in climbing red roses with benches at each end. I stopped at the center of the overlook and sat on one of the benches.

  “This is wonderful,” she said with delight. “This is what I was missing.”

  Quietly, we sat there taking in all of the sun and sounds this space could share. The fresh smell of roses filled the air. Like magic, Althea came to life. Tearfully, her eyes paused at each new sight. Reaching for my hand and squeezing it tight she said, “Thank you.” Outdoor adventures normally filled our life and for this small reminder of them she was truly grateful.

  Wheeling her closer to the waterfall, I had one more surprise up my sleeve. Reaching into the front pocket of my hooded sweatshirt, I produced a bag of Cheetos and handed it to Althea. “Now this is perfect,” she said in total bliss.

  The Healing Water Garden

  We spent at least an hour examining every nook and cranny of this delightful little park. Small fish swam in the water garden and the waterfall splashed over the jumbled rocks spraying the plants that edged the path. A warm breeze blew through the courtyard and the bright sun illuminated every detail of the delicate foliage.

  We sat in silence again listening to the surroundings and then Althea said to me, “I think it’s time to go back. I’m getting tired. But we’ll come back here again.”

  I whispered softly into her ear, “As you wish…”

  This innocent little courtyard brought everything about the outdoors to Althea she missed. Not only did she get the change of sight from her boring hospital room, but it also rejuvenated her with the sights, sounds, and smells of the things she valued the most. She was recharged once again.

  Chapter 24 — March 13, 2008 — Day 22

  * * *

  Much like Santa Fe, Denver is a hotbed for Native American art and culture. Native American art galleries, museums, and organizations all thrive well in the Mile High city. Denver hosts the largest Pow Wow west of the Mississippi River in its Coliseum each March. Each November, it host a weekend dedicated exclusively to Native American Artisans (affectionately called the Indian Market by the locals) in the Colorado Convention Center.

  After Althea’s first Vision Quest in Moab, Utah, she sought out and attended local activities, stores, and ceremonies in the greater Denver area. In November of this same year, Althea attended the Indian Market in an attempt to build her growing network. Several prominent artists showed their crafts. Hundreds of musicians, dancers, weavers, carvers, sculptors, and painters prominently displayed the best of their efforts in long rows of booths in this large rectangular hall.

  One completely unanticipated bonus was a performance by resident Aztec dancers. A thriving group of eight, these dancers announcing the start of their display by beating a drum just inside the main entrance—dum, dum, da-da-da dum. Hauntingly attractive, this hypnotic beat repeated over and over again as the dancers swarmed out the door and onto the stairs outside. A stream of people followed them out the door drawn to the mystical beat of the drum.

  All Aztec ceremonial dances are an expression of their spirituality, so every dance begins with an acknowledgement to the Spirits of the four directions. Now dancing in a circle, a female member carried a rug and an alabaster smudge bowl to its center. In beat to the drum, she spread the small rug on the ground, placed the bowl in its center, and knelt down to light the dry sage within.

  Dum, dum, da-da-da dum; dum, dum, da-da-da dum the drums repeated over and over while she raised the smoldering sage over her head. Pausing briefly four times, she offered a prayer with greatest respect and honored the Spirits by lifting the bowl high into that direction. This grand gesture was equally as moving as was the hypnotic drum beat in our ears.

  Bouncing on the balls of their feet, these dancers twirled and spun raising their shields and spears in carefully choreographed scenes from traditional hunts. Colorfully adorned, the men wore head pieces with a broad fan of pheasant plumes and bright long feathers. The calves of their legs were wrapped in shells that rattled as they bounced along. Highlighted in reds and blues, their bright gold beads and gold emblems proclaimed their alignment with the sun.

  Aztec Offering to the Four Directions

  After the dance, Althea and I went back into the hall inspired by what we had just witnessed. One artist in particular, a young Yaqui, used bright colors and streaking impressions of his hand to create movement in an otherwise still scene. She approached the tall handsome man querying him about this particular painting.

  As the man explained the painting, the two disarmed and found friendship together. She frequented this man’s booth several times through the evening and as the event closed, she paused one last time at the hand painting. Then, in a moment that can change one’s life, the man offered something completely unexpected.

  “Would you like to attend a Sweat Lodge tonight?” the man asked Althea.

  She looked straight into his eyes and without a moment of hesitation responded, “Yes I would.”

  I was standing by another artist admiring a hand painted rattle made from dried leather and filled with corn seeds. Small leather fringe dangled from the brown handle and its sound intrigued my ears.

  Althea hurriedly approached me, grabbed my arm, and excitedly said, “We have been invited to a Sweat Lodge…and it’s tonight!”

  Her heart had found precisely what it was searching for, and I replied in amazement with an ear-to-ear grin, “Wow!” This is all I could say, all other words falling short of expressing what my heart truly felt.

  Although of Yaqui descent, this man studied with the Lakota. His lodge was held in the large back yard of a friend’s home on the northwest side of town. With only the most basic of attire and procedural instructions, we found ourselves sitting inside of a small dome-shaped structure called an Inipi (pronounced In-eee-pee) with several other strangers later that night.

  Completely black inside, the Inipi is sometimes called the Native American Church since here it is where prayers are shared aloud in a structured ceremony. The man led us through the ceremony as glowing red rocks were placed into a small pit in the center of the Inipi. The stack of rocks emitted searing heat onto our skin. As the door closed and the Inipi grew quiet, the first words from this man were followed by water poured on top of these hot rocks.

  Steam surged through the structure bathing us in searing, moist warmth. Again and again as the prayers were said, more water poured onto the hot rocks and the Inipi became hotter than any steam bath I had ever been in. The scent of sage permeated the steam and filled our lungs. Each prayer was interspersed with Native American songs and brought the spiritual intensity within this small dark dome to frenzy.

  Much like the Aztecs honored the four directions at the beginning of their dance, through the long night four times the door to the Inipi and four times more hot rocks were brought in honoring a new direction. Once one series of rocks entered the Inipi, the door closed and in total blackness the melodies and prayers began again.

  The mesmerizing sounds of the rattles and drums mingled with the words of the traditional Lakota songs. Not understanding the language, we trusted on the blissful feelings the words portrayed and joined in imitating the sounds of the refrains. Finding ourselves spent as the heat drained from the rocks and into our bodies, the door opened again and the heat from the fresh hot rocks grew more intense each time. Reaching a point, the blistering heat mixed with the intense prayers and transformed our perceptions. It was as if we let go of one reality and embraced another. At this moment, our true spirits—what easterners call the breath behind the breath—came alive in all who attended.

  Praying from this point was a mind altering experience. Sharing our prayers aloud, the people within the Inipi supported each other in their struggles and challenges creating a feeling of community and belonging.

&nbs
p; Finding the truth buried deep inside, we each prayed more sincerely than we had ever done before. Through the heat, our eyes were opened and our hearts filled. In the fall of 1986, Althea had finally found the church her spirit had so long sought.

  This first Sweat Lodge was quickly followed by many more. In the seven years we were Vision Questing, we attended at least one sweat lodge every weekend for these seven years. Our level of spiritual connection with the Creator grew as did our understanding of this ancient religion. We attended many Sweat Lodges in the greater Denver area, a few on the Pine Ridge reservation in South Dakota, and even an Aztec Inipi in the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico. Each time, the same common feelings of connection with the Creator and support by the people permeated these Inipis. Each time, we finished the ceremony exhausted, and each time we were spiritually refreshed.

  I arrived at the hospital today at one o’clock after finishing those necessary and mundane tasks required to sustain our way of life. Paying bills, making telephone calls, connecting with friends and family, all of these things take time and are essential for a balanced existence.

  Finally, with these menial tasks complete, I hopped into my bright yellow Mini Cooper and drove down the road again, my spirit longing to be with Althea. As I rounded the corner to my favorite parking place, there it was waiting for me, empty, just as I envisioned it on the start of my trip.

  The Mighty Mini

  Heading up to Althea’s room, I paused at her doorway. Clicking through channels on the television, this sight was no different from her behavior at home. Being the channel flipper in our family, Althea commandeered and mastered every remote control for our sophisticated home theater system. Seeing her linger on one channel, lose interest, and then flip without another thought to the next was another positive sign her recovery was progressing well.

  “Hello darling,” I announced. “How are you today?”

  Grinning at the sound of my voice, she spun her head towards the door to my awaiting eyes. As they met, an even wider grin came over her face and she reached out to me in a loving gesture. “Hi!” a blubbery sound came flapping through the slit in her neck. Realizing this did not come out quite like she had hoped, she reached up with her hand and blocked off the slit from her tracheotomy. “Hi!” she repeated again this time completely intelligible.

  “You look good,” I said smiling back.

  “Let’s go down to the water garden again. I’ve been sitting here thinking about it all morning.”

  “You bet!” I responded as I walked toward her. Leaning over and kissing her I continued, “I’ll go find us a wheel chair.” I stroked her head and cradled her chin in my hand and then turned back to the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  Finding a wheelchair in a hospital should be a simple thing, but the only one I could find on the third floor was already in use. I went back down to the lobby and took one from the row near the front door.

  Returning to her room, Althea was already sitting up by herself at the edge of the bed waiting for her chariot. I wheeled the chair over to her and helped her get in. She sat down with a thud and began straightening her vest and matching hat. “A girl has to look good,” she said gazing up at me.

  Smiling back at her I said, “With that matching outfit, you’ll be the envy of everyone.”

  We laughed together and I placed a blanket on her lap. As she arranged it neatly around her hips and legs and then pointed toward the door. “Onward!” she said holding her throat.

  We turned down the hallway and followed the usual path to the elevators. Once on the first floor, we turned to our right and headed for the coffee. “Let’s start with a fresh, hot cup of Starbucks,” I said encouragingly. “Do you want a small, medium, or large?”

  “Medium,” she said with a mischievous grin.

  Parking the wheel chair near the exit, I went inside and quickly returned with two cups of coffee, seasoned just like she liked it. “Mmm…” she said taking her first sip. “Onward,” she said pointing in the direction of the cafeteria.

  We headed into the cafeteria winding around the maze of trays and silverware. Pausing at the tray line and I asked, “Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat from here for a change?”

  “No,” she replied, so we continued on our journey past the rows of lunch tables and chairs. Spotting someone with a hamburger, fries, and a drink, she reached for one of the tables stopping our movement. “Wait,” she said, “I’ve changed my mind. I would like one of those hamburgers. They look really good.”

  Pulling one of the chairs out of the lunch table, I wheeled her in place and got her comfortable. “Cheese?”

  She shook her head no and folded her hands together on top of the table patiently waiting for my return.

  Walking back over to the tray line, I grabbed a tray, plastic utensils, and a small stack of napkins. Scanning the food trays behind the glass, the only thing I could see were fries and beans with burgers and hot dogs sizzling on the grill. I got in line.

  “What would you like?” the young brown-eyed cook behind the counter asked smiling behind a blue hairnet and white lab coat.

  “I’ll have two hamburgers with everything and an order of baked beans.”

  “Do you work for the hospital?” she asked.

  “Um, no,” I responded not sure why she was asking.

  “Well, today is the employee gratitude lunch,” she continued, her thumb pointing to a sign behind her through blue latex gloves. “We do this annually thanking our employees for the good job they do all year long. We have more than enough and you are welcomed to have whatever you want.”

  “Wow! That’s really kind of you.”

  She spun around facing the grill and like a symphony conductor, burgers flew through the air and buns landed on the hot grill. Cobbling the order together on plastic plates, she passed them to me and I thanked her.

  With my tray full of food, I grabbed a bag of Cheetos and meandered over to Althea’s table. She spotted me about a third of the way back and her mouth dropped at the sight. She reached up to help me remove the food from the tray quickly taking what she longed for.

  She carefully spread the condiments on the bun and took a slow, deliberate bite. A smile came over her face and she said with her mouth half full, “Now this is a great burger!” Hospital food has its limitations and when a patient recovers to a certain point; they then remember what home cooking tastes like.

  The Best Burger Ever

  Savoring every bite as if it were a filet mignon steak, Althea wiped her mouth, opened the bag of Cheetos, and was ready to go. Once outside and in the courtyard, Althea’s spirits again soared. Digging into the Cheetos and sipping the coffee, she leaned over to me in between bites and said, “This place is wonderful. We need to thank them for it.”

  She wheeled herself near the edge of the garden facing it squarely. Surrounded by everything she loved and resting her hand on a belly full of good food, she reveled in the moment taking it all in. With this meal, she found her strength and the color returned to her face. In this place of spiritual intensity, she wanted to savor every moment. It was almost like the day after a Sweat Lodge where she felt filled with a sacred holiness.

  The circular garden and cobblestone path snuggled against a small hill into which large boulders rested. Small plants grew at precarious places and in tiny cracks across the face of the waterfall. More plants filled the shallow edges of the pool providing asylum for the placid frogs. Dark shelled snails slowly crawled their way up the rock faces gobbling up chunks of green slime. Light sand lay on the bottom contrasting sharply against the fins of the lazy fish. Water bugs danced across the calm surface near the edge escaping the gaping mouths of these hungry predators.

  As the clouds rolled in and the air cooled off, Althea pulled the blanket up around her and started to shiver. “Let’s go back,” she said.

  “Okay,” I said realizing that her strength was fading. I wheeled her through the maze of corridors, up the elevator
, and back to her room. Getting her back into bed, she rested for a while gathering her wits about her.

  “That was nice,” she said grabbing my hand and squeezing it tightly.

  “We’ll go back again whenever you want. I’m going downstairs for a bit and make some calls. You rest now and I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  Nodding her head, Althea lowered it back into the pillow and folded her hands on her lap. A look of bliss came over her face. Burgers, Cheetos, and Starbucks were all her favorite foods. To Althea, life doesn’t get any better than this!

  I walked out the door and around the corner making my way back down to the window by the elevators. Making a few calls to friends and family, I quickly returned to her room.